


Keep Practicing

by JoMouse



Series: A Very Sterek Winter 2021 [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Don't copy to another site, Future Fic, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Stiles Stilinski is a Nice Thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:41:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28968474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoMouse/pseuds/JoMouse
Summary: A "compliments" box appears on the wall of the Hale House.Written for Day 1 ofA Very Sterek Winter 2021. Theme: Compliments.
Relationships: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: A Very Sterek Winter 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2124750
Comments: 33
Kudos: 257
Collections: A Very Sterek Winter 2021, Sterek Goodness





	Keep Practicing

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings and Salutations!
> 
> I'm so excited to be participating in another Sterek Event created by [Very Sterek Fandom Fests and Events](HTTP://verysterekevents.tumblr.com). I'm hoping that I will have something for every day, but I'm already kind of behind where I want to be, so fingers crossed, my muse plays nicely.
> 
> Big thanks to [Marie](HTTP://quietzap.tumblr.com) and Jenn for looking this over and the awesome feedback. You are both amazing, and I love you!
> 
> I hope you enjoy my offering for today's theme, compliments. 
> 
> xx-Joey
> 
> Don't know 'em. Don't own 'em. Don't show 'em.

Derek wasn’t sure when the box first appeared. A simple wooden square with a slot cut in the top and a compartment full of blank sheets of paper and those tiny golf pencils that barely write. It mimicked every suggestion box in every business establishment in the country. The problem was that this wasn’t a business, this was his living room, and the thing was attached to the wall to the right of the fireplace he’d spent weeks rebuilding.

He deeply inhaled as he approached it, but there were no foreign smells, only those of his Pack. He smiled as he thought about the previous night when they’d all piled up in the middle of the room. His chest warmed as he remembered maneuvering so that he was lying next to Stiles and could pull him into his arms under the guise of making room for the others on the blanket mattress.

Standing directly in front of the box, he looked down into the slot and spotted a slip of paper folded into fourths. Reaching out, he flipped the latch and pulled the box open. Reaching inside, he pulled out the form and unfolded it. The handwriting was generic and boxy; nothing he could identify, and sniffing the paper didn’t reveal anything except Pack. He read over the words, and his breath caught.

_ Derek’s love of classic literature is surprising and admirable. _

He turned the slip over to see if anything else was written on it, but there was nothing. Confused, he reached for the blank papers, and when he moved them, he spotted the word “Compliments” burnt into the wood. He heard a noise behind him and hurriedly shoved the blank sheets back into the box and turned to greet Stiles, who was walking in with his arms full of groceries.

“Hey, Derek! Can you grab the other bags from the Jeep?” he called. Derek headed outside to do just that, his mind still going over the words written on the slip he’d shoved into his pocket.

The Pack spent the next few days camping in the preserve. They trained and played and bonded while enjoying the fresh air and the changing leaves. Derek woke one night to hear movement outside of his tent. Climbing out, he found Stiles sitting on a log, using a stick to poke at the damp ashes from the extinguished fire. 

“Can’t sleep?” Derek asked, settling next to him. Stiles shrugged and leaned into Derek, a slight tremor running through his body. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and fading terror. “Nightmare?” Stiles nodded. Derek wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling Stiles against his chest and let out a low rumble.

“No one would believe me if I told them you’re a cuddler,” Stiles said. His faint smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek grumbled, smiling when Stiles let out a quiet laugh and snuggled deeper into his chest before drifting off to sleep.

The morning after they’d returned from camping, Derek came downstairs for breakfast. He settled onto the couch with a bowl of cereal, and his eyes drifted to the box. After finishing the cereal, he set the bowl on the coffee table and approached the box. Again, the smells surrounding it were familiar, but something was drawing him closer. Opening the latch, he reached in and withdrew another sheet of paper, folded into quarters. 

The handwriting was the same as the first note, but this time it read:  _ Derek is always there for his Pack. He is a good Alpha. _

He couldn’t deny the tears that sprang to his eyes as he read that. He was glad no one else was in the house as he wiped them away hurriedly and slid the note into his pocket. He had never seen anyone else approach the box, and although so far the slips had only been for him, he didn't think the box was only meant for him. Picking up a slip of paper and one of the pencils, he scribbled across it. He repeated the action several more times, filling the box.

That night the house wasn’t full of Pack, but Lydia and Stiles had locked themselves into the study while Jackson and Isaac sprawled out on the couch in the living room playing video games. Derek grew bored watching his betas behave like children and decided to try and throw together something for dinner. He was digging through the fridge when he heard Jackson mention the box on the wall. 

A moment later, Jackson was calling for Stiles and Lydia to come downstairs. Laughing, Derek closed the fridge and grabbed the binder full of take-out menus. There wasn’t enough in the house for a decent dinner, and he was curious about what was happening in the living room. He found Isaac standing with several paper slips in his hands and waving them in the air. 

“What is this?” Isaac asked, gesturing towards the box.

“It’s a compliment box,” Stiles said, running his fingers over the lettering. “Obviously.”

“What are those?” Jackson asked.

“Compliments,” Derek responded. “Obviously.” He smiled when Stiles let out a guffaw.

“What do they say?” Stiles asked, stepping forward to take the paper from Jackson. His eyes looked them over, looking genuinely surprised by what was there. That gave Derek a pretty good clue of who was responsible for the box and the original slips, but he couldn’t imagine Stiles saying those things about him.

“Lydia is even more intelligent than she is beautiful,” Stiles read, smiling up at the redhead who flushed and reached for the paper. “Jackson is loyal to those he deems worthy.” Stiles tilted his head and studied Jackson, who sniffed, but Derek could smell the happiness rolling off him.

Jackson grabbed the slip from Stiles and shoved it into his pocket, turning his attention back to the game. Derek smirked as he moved to stand behind the couch and squeezed the back of Jackson’s neck with a low rumble. “Are there more?” Derek asked.

“Isaac has grown into a caring and affectionate young adult,” Stiles read, grinning when Isaac ducked his head and brought his arm up to hide his sudden smile. “That’s definitely true.”

“Shut up,” Isaac mumbled, taking the slip when Stiles handed it over. “Just keep reading.”

“There are slips for everyone in the Pack,” Stiles said. “We should probably save them for when everyone is here.”

Satisfied, Isaac and Jackson went back to their game. Stiles stuffed the slips back into the box, and Lydia approached, laying a hand on his shoulder. Derek couldn’t hear what she said to him, but he recognized the slump of Stiles’ shoulders. Lydia excused herself, giving Derek a pointed look and a whispered, “Thank you,” as she passed. 

Stiles slipped past him without a sound, but instead of going upstairs, he headed out the front door. Derek crossed to the box and reached inside, flipping through the slips and frowning when he discovered that there was one missing. Ignoring Jackson’s concerned shout when he slammed the lid shut, Derek hurried out the front door and down the steps. 

Stiles’ Jeep sat under the large oak; the driver’s seat empty. Flaring his nostrils, Derek followed the familiar scent down a path between the trees. It was a path that the Pack ran regularly, and Stiles followed when he had a lot on his mind. The course let out at the edge of a pond, a rickety dock at the border. Stiles sat on the end, legs pulled up to his chest, chin resting on his knees. 

Derek sat next to him, bumping their shoulders together. “The compliment box was a good idea,” he said.

“How do you know it was me?” Stiles asked, looking out over the water. His lips quirked a bit when a family of ducks swam across the pond. 

“No one else would say nice things about me,” Derek responded, shrugging.

Stiles’ scent flared with burning embers. “That’s not true! The Pack adores you!”

“They respect my authority. I’ve never been the type that people ‘adored’,” Derek said, laying a hand on Stiles’ leg to try to calm him down. “I’m just glad that  _ you _ like me.”

Stiles snorted. “I like everyone.”

“Scott likes everyone. You make people earn your care,” Derek retorted, and Stiles laughed. He was glad he didn’t take that the wrong way; it had only been meant that Stiles was careful who he let into his life. 

“Touché.” He uncurled his body, leaning into Derek. “What did you do with your slips?”

Arching his hips, Derek reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled them out. Stiles grinned and reached out to run a finger over them. “Why didn’t you read yours aloud?” 

Reaching into the pocket of his hoodie, Stiles pulled out the slip Derek had written for him. Unfolding it, he read it over silently before saying, “Stiles’ eyes glow like a wolf, and his heart is strong enough to carry any Pack. Stiles is the wolfiest human I’ve ever encountered.” He turned his head to look at Derek. “Everyone would accuse me of writing it myself.”

“You’re not that poetic,” Derek teased.

“You’ve clearly never seen the odes I wrote to Lydia in the fifth grade,” Stiles said, laughing.

“Oh no, I have,” Derek countered. “You’re not quite the master of flowery prose that you think you are.”

Stiles put the paper back into his pocket and turned to face Derek’s profile. “It’s the flowery prose that confuses me.” Stiles’ words tumbled out. It took Derek a second to decipher them, but Stiles continued talking before he could comment. “All the other comments were straight forward. One sentence. Mine had a different feel.” Derek turned his head to look Stiles in the eye. “It felt more like a…” He took a deep breath and looked away from Derek’s gaze. “Like a love letter.” 

“I suppose it was,” Derek said, keeping his voice even.

“Which is ridiculous because you’re you, and I’m me. There’s no way…” Stiles turned back to him. “What?”

The grin on Derek’s face was quick, and he bit back a laugh at the look of awe and confusion on Stiles’ face. It was a good look for him, but Derek thought most looks were good on Stiles. “You have to know how I feel about you.”

“That I’m the wolfiest human, you know?” Stiles asked. The smile on his face was forced, and his heartbeat was more erratic than usual. His scent was something he hadn’t smelled since the day he’d gotten his acceptance letter to Stanford, hopeful.

“That you’re the best person I know,” Derek said, trying to put as much sincerity into his tone as he could. Stiles needed to know he wasn’t teasing. “That you’re funny and brilliant and beautiful and everything I’ve wanted and never dared hope to find.” Stiles’ jaw slacked, and Derek reached out to close his mouth, keeping his chin grasped gently between his finger and thumb. “You’re the first person I want to share good news with and the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night.”

“You’re a sap,” Stiles said, his voice thick with tears as his eyes shone in the moonlight.

“And you love it,” Derek quipped, hoping he wasn’t pushing too hard.

Stiles’ eyes traced his face, and his teeth dug into his lip. “You know, I just might,” he admitted, and Derek took that for the opening that it was. 

Moving slowly, he leaned in and brushed his lips against Stiles’. It was barely a hint of a kiss, but Stiles’ heart skipped a couple of beats before racing. The joy bubbled up inside of him, tumbling out in a laugh. Stiles’ eyes widened as he leaned away.

“Wow, didn’t think I was that bad at kissing.”

Derek shook his head, knowing Stiles was teasing, and he wouldn't have to explain himself, but he couldn’t resist quipping back, “Then I guess we should keep practicing.” Stiles let out his own laugh before leaning back in to do just that very thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say 'hi' on tumblr. I'm 'josjournal' over there.


End file.
